


Speedtrap

by Liara_90



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Improper Use of Police Equipment, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Some Plot, Threesome - F/F/F, Vaginal Fingering, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where Weiss is an overworked CEO and Yang and Blake are police officers. When a bad day at work causes Weiss to miss date night, her girlfriends decide to take matters into their own hands. Bee's Schnees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speedtrap

Weiss Schnee was not having a good day.

Had Weiss been able to detach from her state of seething rage and impartially observe the 23-year old CEO - who at present was pointedly ignoring the stunning sunset her spacious office afforded her - she would have noted that this was, actually, somewhat surprising. Today was a _difficult_ day, yes, but as the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company 'difficult' was par for the course. She dealt with self-important shareholders, condescending board members, project crises and media heat as a matter of course. Were those pressures enough to break her, even distress her, she would never have survived a week in the cutthroat arena of corporate politics.

But no, there were no mine collapses or hostile reporters or boardroom tussles today, and while the still-rational part of Weiss' mind recognized that she should be thankful for that, her baser thoughts wished for the comfort of a boring, familiar crisis. Those she dispatched with the sangfroid becoming of a _bona fide_ heiress, _those_ were what she had spent literally her entire life preparing to resolve with acumen and aplomb.

Instead, Weiss was stuck with a myriad of minor irritants that completely unraveled her plans for the week - nay, the _quarter_ \- of which she was utterly impotent to deal with. A technical glitch during an overhaul of servers in London had somehow brought down most of the company's electronic infrastructure, leaving Weiss staring furiously at a BlackBerry that impetuously refused to connect to the Weiss Dust Company intranet. A city-wide power outage had left her stuck in the parking garage's elevator for a mind-numbing eighteen minutes. Disloyal employees were trying to tack on an extra afternoon to the upcoming three-day weekend, leaving Weiss with a plethora of voicemails and out-of-office auto-replies as she scrambled to prepare for an upcoming meeting with the Zambian government. And her secretary had, in lieu of a properly caffeinated beverage, unilaterally decided to switch her to decaf, something that took Weiss the better part of an unusually grumpy day to figure out. Nobody was holding their breath waiting for the secretary to return next week. 

The lack of caffeine may have explained why Weiss was sullenly storming out of the building rather than rending limbs from torsos, for which all who passed her gave a silent prayer. The IT geeks had said they still had hours of repairs to do before their electronic infrastructure was back to 100%, and since they were taking the opportunity to install long-overdue patches and updates she couldn't even her use her office computer. So it was back to the home office for Weiss, a twenty-minute drive before she was away from the madness and back to her regular, in-control self.

She hoped.

Weiss drove out of the building's subterranean parking garage in a snow-white BMW 740d, her fingers tightening around the wheel as the day's inanities replayed themselves in her mind. _Deep breathes. Deep breathes_. She tried to find comfort in the vehicle's leather cushioning and freshly-cleaned scent, but the distraction was fleeting. She could easily have afforded a pricier, comfier car - could have afforded a whole _fleet_ of them were she so vaingloriously inclined - but Weiss had no need for such crude displays of power. She wanted a luxury car, but preferred reliability and discretion over a Rolls-Royce or a supercar. She lived in the penthouse suite of a condominium, but had sold off her family's innumerous mansions and villas. She was fully entitled to a corporate chauffeur in a mini-bar accessorized SDC limo, but fought to preserve some autonomy in her daily routine. The only concession to proper vanity - made at her girlfriends' insistences - was to have the car modified with armored plating and bullet-proof windows. She had scoffed at their paranoia - there hadn't been an assassination attempt against an SDC executive for years now - but it seemed like a reasonable compromise to the rocket-powered ejection seat they had opened negotiations with.

The newly-christened SDC headquarters - her father's last vanity project - was in a towering glass-plated skyscraper overlooking the water. Schnee Tower (there was not much creativity to her family's nomenclature, Weiss conceded) had revitalized much of the city's waterfront, which had weathered the last recession poorly. It also meant that Weiss could enjoy a coastal drive on a still-underused freeway for the twenty-odd minutes it took her to get home. But today the waning sun, in all its furious glory, was nothing but an irritating glare on Weiss's tinted window. Even the Achieve Men B-side on the radio seemed to be mocking her inability to get a proper cup of coffee.

 

_Yo listen up, I hope you like it hot._

_Grab yourself a mug, 'cause I made a fresh pot._

_Come and get a dose of my kick-ass java._

_Fuelin' your addiction with this thick black lava._

_We can do up an espresso, or the cappuccino way._

_Sure to get your fix, venti or grande._

_Sugar, Splenda, Equal, maybe Sweet'N Low._

_Everybody's happy when they hanging with Joe; let's go._

 

A triple-toned chime went off somewhere in the back of the car, and Weiss cursed in her ancestral German, muting the radio. That ringtone had a distinct owner, one Weiss was none-to-eager to converse with at the moment. On top of that, in her haste to depart she'd managed to leave the hands-free earpiece in her other coat. Double-checking that the road ahead was clear, Weiss reached around for her purse with the elegance of an orangutan, before finally managing to wrestle the phone from its holder.

 "Hey Yang," Weiss said, her anger and annoyance dissipating into melancholy as she spoke.

"Hey, Weiss-y," Yang answered in sing-song voice, though years of experience enabled Weiss to pick out the hidden accusatory note. "Didja remember what day it is?" 

" _Of course_ I didn't forget date night," Weiss replied firmly, cradling the phone in her shoulder as she deftly wove through the light traffic. "There were just a few complications at the office. You wouldn't believe how the IT dorks managed to bungle a simple upgrade, our whole intranet has been touch-and-go for hours, I haven't been able to get any work done. I'm just heading home to make some annotations on the Côte d'Ivoire proposal, then we can head out for dinner."

"You still have the reservations?" Yang asked, and a lifetime of fencing raised red flags in Weiss' mind that she was being lead into a trap.

"Of course. You know I wouldn't miss Lie Ren's North American debut. Red Orchid at 7:30. Do you and Blake have your outfits picked out? I don't care how flattering that police uniform is on you, you can't wear it for fine dining." 

"7:30, you said?" repeated Yang, and Weiss felt her stomach drop the moment before she glanced the clock on her dashboard.

_7:59 PM_

" _Sohn von einem Weibchen_ ," Weiss cursed, reverting to German for the second time that evening. _Does the sun really set so late?_ "Yang, I'm _really_ sorry. _Really_. I swear I'll make it up to you." They had definitely given away their reservation by now, Schnee name or not. Lie Ren was famously indifferent to fame and fortune, despite how he accumulated both. "Have you told Blake?" A fully formed image of the third member of their relationship popped into Weiss' mind: Blake, wearing the one little black dress she owned, sitting alone at a table in a bustling restaurant, paging half-heartedly through a trashy romance novel before the maître d' asked her to give up her table. It was depressing.

"Hard not to, as she's in the car right next me," Yang replied with a laugh, the following crackle suggesting she'd switched to speakerphone. "Hey Blake, you remember Weiss, right? White-haired princess who promised us gourmet Chinese on date night?"

Weiss imagined a small smirk playing across Blake's face, the woman squinting in jest. "Vaguely," Blake said, her tone carrying little of the melodramatic hurt that Yang's did. "Was she the one the paramedics found worked-to-death in her office, having long cut herself off from her dearest friends who might have saved her from herself?"

"I said I was sorry!" half-pleaded Weiss, sending a menacing glare to a little old lady who'd been going five under the speed limit.

Her girlfriends, of course, were having none of it. "That's the one," Yang continued, deaf to Weiss' protests. "I remember reading the biggest tragedy was that she died a virgin. Shame that such a beautiful body would never be shared with another woman."

"Especially when she was surrounded by intelligent, attractive young ladies who were practically throwing themselves at her," Blake agreed, the _schadenfreude_ dripping from her lips. "Maybe it wasn't exhaustion, maybe her heart just froze to ice, like all those protesters always said."

"You guys are just being sadistic now," whined Weiss, though she knew she had no moral high ground at the moment.

" _Sadistic_ , she says?" Yang's voice crackled back, her tone as lofty as she could make it. "I manage to beg, borrow and steal a full three-day weekend off. You're on a mandatory vacation after your latest White Fang shoot-out. How often do we all have three days off to spend together, Blake?"

"I believe the expression is  _once in a blue moon_ , if I'm not mistaken," Blake replied. The smirk Weiss imagined on Blake's face had grown into a full-blown Cheshire grin now. "And she wants to spend it locked up in her home office firing off e-mails to people who won't read them until Tuesday."

" _Blake stop enabling her_ ," Weiss hissed, her foot further depressing the gas pedal. "I just need to spend a few more hours wrapping up loose ends. Then we'll…" Weiss glanced around, looking for inspiration for a weekend activity that could make up for world-class Chinese. The roof above stared back at her, mocking her with silence. "Then I'll….  _see that the hero of the day is properly rewarded_ ," she said, affecting her best  _sexy_ voice.

Blake had been in a brief firefight Tuesday with a small band of White Fang diehards that had refused the group leadership's call for disarmament. Weiss had been halfway around the world on company business in Johannesburg when Blake called her, calmly informing her that she was perfectly fine and shouldn't panic when the VNN hysterics started. Every fiber of Weiss' body had screamed at her to race back and smoother her girlfriend in hugs and kisses, but Blake knew how important the SDC work was to Weiss, sharing her workaholic instincts. Not to mention Blake would be tied up dealing with the endless succession of debriefings, interrogations, after-action reports and miscellaneous paperwork that this came with this kind of an incident. As soon as all that was wrapped up, Blake would get a weeklong, police force-mandated stress leave.

_It's not the first time some idiot with a gun has shot at me, and it won't be the last_ , Blake had said, the confidence in her tone belying the somewhat unsettling message. Weiss had arrived back Thursday morning, and had spent only a few fleeting minutes with Blake before they were pulled back to the respective work.

Yang and Blake were both cops, though it was hard to find a more divergent set. They worked different sections, which Weiss privately thought was probably for the best, given their personalities. Yang was the cop-on-the-beat kind of woman, bountiful in energy, ready to hear any complaint, charm any citizen, a walking PR victory if there ever was one. Yang was the cop nobody felt scared talking to, the policewoman who could win over a suspicious community, inspire a classroom full of children, and recruit a dozen allies, all with an implacable smile on her face. And those robbers and gangsters foolish enough to see the buxom blonde and nothing more rarely walked free to repeat the mistake.

Blake was, for all extents and purposes, the plainclothes detective out of a  _film noir_ , had their been policewomen back in the '50s. She was patient where Yang was impulsive, methodical where Yang was haphazard, weary where Yang was trusting. There was a reason the force had learned to give Blake the hard cases after only a few months on the job. She had a knack for seeing the bigger picture in the way Yang tended not to, making her better suited for untangling elaborate criminal conspiracies. On the other hand, nobody would send Blake out to win hearts and minds anytime soon. She spent most of her days in a windowless office pouring over organization charts and bank statements, heading out on the street only when there were heads ready to crack.

They were _yin and yang_ , exactly one-third of the girlfriends liked to joke.

The precious few who knew of the relationship between the two police officers and the megacorporation's CEO tended to look at them with raised eyebrows, and even those who'd known them all since college were prone to expressions of bemusement. It certainly wasn't a match made in heaven - one would need to be precognizant or insane to have predicted it - but it worked.

" _Properly rewarded_ , you say?" mused Blake, as Weiss raced pass a truck driver displaying a rather rude gesture. She responded in kind.

 Yang cut in. "Does Weiss Schnee want to _de-brief_ the bane of the White Fang?"

 What sounded like a soft _smack_ to Yang's head played over the speakerphone.

 "I certainly would," said Weiss, though she groaned at Yang's double-entendre as much as Blake did. Still, _nobody_ wore boyshorts like Blake. "I want to take you to my…. _private interrogation chamber_ …. though I'm afraid I'll have to strip-search you first. Once you're wearing nothing but a pair of panties, I'll cuff your hands behind your back, blindfold you, and begin the interrogation proper," Weiss cooed into the phone, trying to sound like the _femme fatale_ Blake brought out in her. Of course, Weiss was making this up on the fly, trying to sate her girlfriends' sexual appetites with a bit of phone play until she could finish up her paperwork. She hoped Yang didn't mind being excluded for the moment; the trio only ever did phone sex one-on-one. It turned out spending twenty minutes trying to set up a long-distance conference was a surefire way to kill everyone's libido. A mistake best not repeated.

 "I've always wondered what kind of resistance training they give to detectives like you. Do they train you to resist someone sucking on your nipples? Running a leather strap across your ass? What if you're interrogated by someone licking your pussy, bringing you _closer_ and _closer_ but never _quite_ letting you release?" 

"Well this is your chance to find out," Blake's voice called back, effortlessly sultry. "You're on the way back, right? Should I start…. preparing myself?"

"Yyyyyyeah," Weiss uncertainly responded, as her brain scrambled to find the winning combination of words. She was beginning to suspect it was a _Kobayashi Maru_. "I should be ready in maybe…. two hours? I just need to run through the latest revisions from the shysters at Snow and Associates. Oh and call back the IT head to make sure we're back at capacity." She paused, the line silent. "Ahh and I should be getting an e-mail from the DCoS in Abidjan sometime tonight; I'll need to get back to him as soon as possible. So if you and Yang want to do something for a few hours, I'll be sure to join you-"

_< Woo woo>_

Weiss' rear-view mirror alighted with the blue-and-red glare of a police siren, eliciting another bout of cursing. She glanced down at her speedometer - she was barely going ten over! Ticket quotas - despite Blake and Yang insisting such things didn't exist - must be coming due, Weiss firmly decided.

" _Wunderbar_ ," Weiss drawled into her cell phone, pulling off to the side of the road. There was a small rest stop for scenic viewing of the waterfront, though Weiss had never witnessed a soul take advantage of it. "Guys, I just got pulled over by some highway patrol dolt." 

"You going to be okay?" Blake asked, her voice earnest.

"Yeah, I can sweet-talk my way out anything," Weiss said. Not, of course, that she had ever needed to try with a traffic cop before. From the first time she'd ignited her Sweet Sixteen birthday present Weiss had never gotten so much as parking ticket - only a perfect storm of stress, annoyance and horniness had pushed her to speed beyond what could easily be pulled back.

 "See you soon, okay Weiss?" said Yang.

"Definitely. Going to hang up the phone before he gets here."

Weiss killed the call and began rummaging around for the car's registration information. The anger of the day had dissipated into resignation at this point. Weiss didn't even blame herself for driving too fast. Today had been a demonstration of the universality of Murphy's Law - why _wouldn't_ she pulled over on the way back to her home where two overly-eager girlfriends awaited her?

License and registration in hand, Weiss leaned back into her headrest, closing her eyes for a few moments in an effort some semblance of serenity.

Knuckles rasped windows, and Weiss' eyes shot open.

"License and registration please," a gruff but decidedly feminine voice demanded. Weiss scrambled to lower the windows, her mind sluggishly processing the instructions it was receiving. She stared at the officer for a full five seconds before the wave of disbelief crashed over her like a tsunami.

 "Yang?!"

 "That's _Officer Xiao Long_ to you," Yang replied. Gone was the bottled sunshine that brought a smile to every face. _Officer Xiao Long_ was tall, muscled, armed, and most importantly: annoyed. A pair of aviator sunglasses blocked the upper half of her visage, leaving Weiss staring at a mirror reflection of herself. "And keep your hands where I can see them."

Weiss' hands instinctively shot back from her lap to the wheel, the authoritative tone of Yang's voice something Weiss had wished she could record and play in meetings. A scowl played over Weiss' face a moment later when she realized the gravity (or lack thereof) of her situation.

 "Yang, did you pull me over as a way of punishing me for not taking you all out for Chinese food?" A small smile crept to Weiss' face, despite herself.

 It found no counterpart on Yang. "Do you know it's against the law to operate a cellular phone and a motor vehicle simultaneously?"

 Weiss groaned. "Yes, Yang, I left the earpiece back at the office. I'm sorry."

 " _And_ you were going fifteen over the limit?"

 "You _know_ I'm a safe driver, Yang," Weiss pleaded, wondering where exactly this charade was going.

"Do you know what an extended middle finger signifies in the context of a lane merge?" inquired Yang, her tone suggesting Weiss had just propositioned Ruby. "It says, 'I'm driving angry'. And I can tell you that I _did_ see some angry driving from a certain snow-white BMW. And an angry driver is most assuredly an _un_ safe driver."

" _Blake_!" Weiss stuck her head out the window, yelling towards the squad car parked behind her. How had she not noticed it? "Blake, tell your partner if she continues this game it's no sex for a week!"

"That's  _Detective_ Blake," snarled Yang, "and threatening a police officer is a  _very_ serious offense. Out of the car."

"Yang-"

" _Move it_ , princess!"

Weiss was scrambling out of her seat before her brain could process the meaning of the words. A strong hand grabbed her by the bicep, manhandling her roughly to the front of her car.

"Put your hands on the hood and spread 'em."

Weiss had regained enough of her good sense to blush furiously at the instructions, but nevertheless did as she was ordered. She took a moment to appreciate the fact that the spot Yang had pulled her over in was fairly remote, and the angle they'd pulled in at made it pretty much impossible for anyone driving to see what was happening, unless they looked  straight backwards while buzzing down the freeway. Given that Yang had had the discretion to park her squad car out of the highway's line-of-sight, they were probably safe.

"Ma'am, do you have anything dangerous on your person I should be aware of? Any weapons or drugs?"

"No, of course not," Weiss shot back, through gritted teeth. Yang was power-tripping _hard_. She turned her head to face Yang but a rough hand grabbed her by the collar of her suit jacket and redirected her back to the hood of the car. Weiss winced at the wrinkles the dry clean-only laundry must be taking right now.

Never having been one for 'Casual Friday', Weiss was still wearing the black skirt suit she'd left the office in, the jacket's lapels sharp as a sword's blade, the edge of an unblemished white camisole breaking up an otherwise dark outfit. Black pantyhose with a lace trim visible from just the right angle sheathed her lithe legs, which were further accentuated by the three-inch high heels on her feet, footwear she strolled about in an ease neither Blake nor Yang could have ever mustered. The look was intentionally severe, design to dissuade any preconceived notions that she was some trust fund party girl who went through life with a laugh and a wink. She was Weiss Schnee, Captain of Industry, Queen of the Hostile Takeover, Ice Princess Extraordinaire. And her skirt's hemline not withstanding, nobody would ever confuse her for a ditzy flirt.

The old adage that 'familiarity breeds contempt' appeared to be holding true, though, and her $4,000 wardrobe was doing little to dissuade Yang from all but groping her on the hood of her own car.

Weiss shuddered involuntarily as Yang's bare hands ran up her right leg, under the flimsy pretense of searching for contraband. Yang was certainly taking her time, feeling Weiss' muscles tense in anticipation as they moved from calf to thigh… than upper thigh…. roaming around beneath her skirt for far longer than necessary. Circumstances notwithstanding, Weiss found herself growing hot with excitement as Yang's hands began moving their way up her other leg. It took all her self-control not to grind against her girlfriend's hands as they returned to their place around her crotch.

"I'm….  _really_ sorry, Yang," groaned Weiss, as the cop moved on from her legs and unbuttoned her suit jacket. Weiss' hands were still planted firmly on the hood of the car, allowing Yang unimpeded access to feel up torso. "You're right, my…. workaholic tendencies…. got the better of me. Come on, let's go home…." Weiss' eyes shot open as Yang made her way to her breasts, gently massaging them through the soft fabric of the camisole. "Not here…. let's stop…"

"Ohhh, you want to _stop_?" purred Yang in her ear, fingers circling nipples. "It seems like you're enjoying yourself."

"Oh god I am," moaned Weiss, her body beginning to gyrate in sync with Yang's dexterous strokes. "But just not here. Not at a pretend traffic stop."

"Ah, but here's the problem, Weiss-y," cooed Yang, drawing back to her full height. Her hands vanished from Weiss' chest, though one returned to rest atop her ass. "I can let you go, of course, but you _were_ speeding, and you _were_ driving with a cell phone. So if you don't want to… _pretend_ …. I'm going to have to go back to reality. And in reality, Officer Yang is going issue you a ticket for distracted driving. One demerit to a spotless driving record."

"You _wouldn't_!" seethed Weiss, and Yang grabbed a handful of ass cheek. "That's…. unethical!"

" _Wellllll_ ," Yang replied with a playful grin, "when you think about it isn't it _more_ unethical to let someone get away with dangerous driving just because she's incredibly beautiful and promised me a hot threesome? I mean I should really issue you a ticket just so nobody at the Precinct can accuse me of playing favorites." Weiss groaned: at her predicament, at Yang's tortured logic, at the hand that was gently massaging the area between her ass cheeks. "All you have to say is, 'I accept the demerit for dangerous driving, Office Yang,' and I'll stop."

In the reflection of her windshield Weiss spotted Yang's grin, which could only be described as 'shit-eating'.

"Fine, have it your way," said Weiss, trying to put as much snarl in her voice as possible. "I'll play along with your police brutality if it keeps my insurance rates from going up."

"Like you need to worry about insurance rates," said Yang with a snort. She glanced up. "Detective Blake, did your search of the suspect's vehicle turn up anything interesting?"

"For someone who says she's a law-abiding citizen this 'Ms. Schnee' has an awful lot of armor plating in her car," said Blake, stepping into Weiss' admittedly limited field-of-view for the first time.

She was stunning, of course. Yang would always look best in her blues, but Blake in her detective quote-unquote 'working attire' never failed paralyze Weiss. It was nothing intrinsic to the clothes - a long black trench coat, knee-high boots atop dark jeans, a simple button-down shirt or a tight T-shirt - but they fit Blake so perfectly it was sometimes impossible to imagine her in anything else. She telegraphed cool and calm, the kind of danger-laced _sangfroid_ that Weiss struggled to project on her _good_ days. Blake could say more with a sideways glance and a tilt of her head than most people could with a podium and twenty minutes. Her body had an economy of movement that Yang would never reach, something she often used to remain unsettling still while sizing up an adversary. It made her actual motions, so fluid and precise, all the more eye-catching.

"Armor plating in a civvie's car? I don't see a license for that in any of your paperwork?" Yang said with a grin, having dived back into the game she'd roped Weiss into playing.

"But… you _told me_ to get that!" Weiss insisted, trying to send Blake a glare of death as the detective leafed through her purse.

"This business card says she's the CEO of one Schnee Dust Company." Blake cocked an eyebrow. "Does the term 'dust' mean anything to you, Officer Yang?"

"I'm not in narcotics, Detective Blake, but I'm pretty sure that's local slang phencyclidine, a hallucinogenic drug that's been making inroads in our fair city."

"You guys are-"

"Right you are, Officer Yang. I can't help but wonder if we have ourselves a drug dealer with a sick sense of humor. Wouldn't be the first case I've broken because the perp thought they'd leave cute little clues."

Before Weiss could respond to Blake's latest leap of logic she felt her arms being wrenched behind her back, causing her to slam onto the hood of her car. A second later she felt the cold touch of steel around her wrists as Yang slapped a pair of handcuffs on her. The metal cuffs dug into her skin, causing Weiss to wince, though she instinctively remembered from some of their previous… sessions… to tense her muscles, giving herself as much slack as possible. 

"I think it's better safe than sorry with such a dangerous-looking woman as this one," concurred Yang, planting a hand on Weiss' back to keep her pinned to the car. Weiss vaguely felt like she was some trophy game animal being fussed over by two huntresses. "I suppose you'd like the honors?"

Weiss swiveled her head as much as possible to eyeball Yang, mouth opening to ask just what she meant by that, when a sound from Blake's direction caused her to snap back the other way so fast she risked whiplash.

The sound of a rubber glove being pulled tight.

The devilish grin on Blake's face shook Weiss to her very core. It was predatory, pure and simple. Through charm, guile and force her two girlfriends had her trapped just the way they wanted. And Blake most definitely knew it.

Yang ceded her position behind Weiss. The handcuffed executive idly wondered if those black-colored latex gloves were standard-issue, or if Blake had a personal stash somewhere. They certainly suited her, she couldn't help conceding.

Blake hitched Weiss' pencil skirt up around her hips, gently massaging her buttocks for the better part of a minute. Blake could make Weiss blush redder than even Yang could, and Weiss found herself once more heating up with excitement. She didn't have an exhibitionist bone in her body - and was grateful that even as the traffic buzzed by them they were effectively invisible - but Blake's sheer deviance excited her in ways she didn't think still possible. As Blake's hands drifted towards her crotch Weiss felt as naughty as the first time she'd first made out with a schoolgirl in junior high, kissing furtively in the gym's locker room a stone's throw from their Puritanical disciplinarians. 

"It's been a _long_ time since I've gotten to properly inspect something of this beauty," purred Blake into Weiss' ear, a statement true both in- and out-of-character.

"I'm…I'm _sorry_ … detective," replied Weiss in kind, as Blake began applying more and more pressure. Blake's hand slipped beneath her underwear, and Weiss felt a thrill run up her spine as latex-covered fingers stroked her folds with the utmost delicacy. "I really… try to be the best…". The word ' _girlfriend_ ' died on her lips as Blake's finger pushed inwards, gently tracing her inner curves.

Pulling back after several minutes of silent stroking, Blake slipped down Weiss' panties, giving her an unimpeded view of her girlfriend's sex. Pausing for a few seconds to listen to Weiss' labored breathing, Blake gently cupped the heiress face, directing her to flip over onto her back. Lying on the hood of a car with her hands cuffed behind her back wasn't something Weiss would normally have found particularly comfortable, but Blake's touch had overridden any complaints of her conscious mind.

"You seem a little…. _uptight_ ," mused Blake, idly tracing her girlfriend's folds. It was a fairly blatant lie, as Weiss was more excited than she'd felt in weeks, but Weiss sensed the conversation was playing out on multiple levels. For all her cool confidence Blake had the most trouble of the three believing that, skeptics and naysayers aside, their tripartite relationship was sailing smoothly. The same investigative prowess that let her spot the criminal conspiracy in the noise of the world left her prone to reading too much into her girlfriends' actions (or worse, inactions). Despite all the loving words they'd exchanged the past week, Weiss suspected Blake worried that the Ice Queen was resurfacing.

The thought, piercing her hormone-addled mind like a bullet, would probably have killed her mood if Blake and Yang didn't have her so riled up already. Which, mercifully, they did.

"Please, Detective," Weiss groaned, "I want you…to  _know_ …. that I'm not hiding anything from you."

"Oh really?" said Blake, that sly grin returning. "Nothing hiding….  _here_ ?"

Weiss let out a guttural moan of pleasure as two fingers slid inside her, pumping in and out with an effortless rhythm. Eyes shut, Weiss surrendered to ecstasy as Blake's fingers slid in and out. With her free hand Detective Blake gently stroked her girlfriend's clitoris, applying more or less pressure in tandem with her fingers. Weiss slid further and further back on the hood of her car as Blake's ministrations built in intensity. She forced her eyes open, staring down her sweat-streaked body at the policewoman who was so powerfully pleasuring her. She peered into Blake's golden eyes, glistening in the sunset's last rays, and saw love.

The orgasm coursed through her body like a double-shot of vodka. An unintelligible scream escaped her mouth as aftershocks of pleasures reverberated down her arms and legs, triggering an orgasmic shudder as they went. Weiss' muscles degenerated into putty, and for several minutes she simply lay on the hood of her car, breathing heavily, the traffic of the freeway a tranquilizing buzz. As she regained control of her senses she realized that Blake, trench coat and all, was lying on the hood beside her, dexterous fingers gently stroking strands of her tussled hair. Were it not for the handcuffs manacling Weiss' hands and the smell of sex in the air the scene could have been taking from a cheesy high school romance. 

Weiss quite probably could've fallen asleep there, the stress of the week washing out of her body with the juices now coating Blake's hand, but the third member of their lover's triumvirate had just about run out of patience.

Now while Yang appreciated watching passionate, loving sex as much as the next woman, it was pretty much impossible for her to go over the edge without a flesh-and-blood body pressed against her. And as content as she was to watch the sexual catharsis unfold between her two girlfriends she was beginning to get impatient. A hand had long slipped beneath the waistband of her uniform trousers, but so far she'd succeeded simply in riling herself up.

Yang coughed loudly.

The noise jolted both Blake and Weiss out of their post-coital reverie, and the two policewomen exchanged a salvo of non-verbal communications that Weiss could never hope to interpret.

"So, Detective, this 'Weiss Schnee' is clean after all?"

"Like a high end call girl, but yes," Blake concurred, drawing a glare from Weiss as the potshot dragged her back to reality. The Detective hopped off the hood of the car, and with one surprisingly strong _yank_ pulled Weiss to her feet.

"Well, Ms. Schnee, I hope you're happy you wasted valuable police time giving us the runaround with this coy act of yours," Yang barked. Her façade was slipping, the two other women noticed, her impatient horniness bringing out hammier acting. "I think it's appropriate that you compensate us for the waste of city services."

"And what would-" Weiss's query was interrupted by the force of Blake giving the back of her legs a nudge with her booted foot, sending Weiss stumbling into a kneeling position. She glanced down at her own legs, spotting the small tears and rips that had damned the pantyhose to the trash.

By the time she looked up, Yang was already resting against her car, pants off, stroking herself with the barely-constrained excitement of a teenager home alone. The sheer comical impatience of it all elicited a snort from Weiss, which in turn drew a scowl from Yang. 

"Unless you want the SDC to get an invoice for wasting police time I suggest you find a way to make this wild-goose chase worth _my_ time," Yang growled, leaning forward to grab Weiss by the back of her hair. The executive awkwardly shuffled forward on her knees, until Yang began dragging her head towards the space between her legs. 

Blake could be subtle. Blake could be patient. The reason Blake was in charge of coming up with most bedroom activities was because she had the self-discipline to actually see something through to completion before fucking like a rabbit. Roleplay sessions with Yang tended to last about until the blonde woman reached a state of moderate arousal. Anything after that was borrowed time. Some part of Weiss's mind wondered how she'd managed the courtesy of not interrupting Blake.

By the time Weiss' face made contact with the policewoman's most sensitive area Yang was already flush with excitement, her folds opened, her skin wet. (Accurately) predicting that Yang would be in no mood for teasing Weiss began to lick with gusto, Yang's sweat-infused scent filling her nostrils. Her hands were stilled cuffed behind her back, dramatically reducing the number of tricks she could pull, but it didn't take a genius to see the pleasure Yang's few kinks gave her. Yang's strong hand kept her wedged between the blonde's thighs, preventing her from pausing for more than short breaths.

Had Yang taken a long time to pleasure Weiss might have had a problem, as the angle was killing her neck and her thighs were shaking with exhaustion, but the blonde had evidently been as close as she could get herself before Weiss had begun her oral service. Weiss' tongue bobbed in and out of Yang with ease, while her face was mashed against Yang's clit courtesy of the blonde grinding forcibly against her.

"Ah, that's it,  _that's it_ ," Yang moaned, repeating the same phrase she invariable uttered before climaxing. Weiss didn't stop, pulling out a little to slide her tongue in the space between folds, using her nose to apply pressure in all the right places, before the sensation of Yang's thighs locking like a vice around her head telegraphed all she needed to know.

Yang's muscles remained rigid for several more seconds - indicative of a _very_ good orgasm, to a trained lover's eye - before she eased herself off of Weiss and helped the woman to her feet. A sheepish grin played across Yang's face as a de-sexed state of consciousness reflected on just how crude she'd been. The cop with a heart of gold had resurfaced.

Her face was soaked by this point, the sweat of two girlfriend's intermingling with her own scent, when Weiss belatedly remembered that nobody had done anything for Blake. The thought hadn't really crossed _her_ mind - though given their circumstances she could hardly be blamed - though it was a little unusual for Yang to leave a third body out if one was available. She was a very greedy lover, and when they were naked in bed together Yang always insisted on being in the middle, so she could touch as much as absolutely possible. It was endearing, in the same just-a-little childish way her half-sister was.

"Blake, um, do you want me to _do_ something for you?" Weiss asked with uncharacteristic awkwardness, as Yang undid the cuffs on her wrist. Weiss was about to ask if she could have them reapplied when she gave Blake a quick once-over, smirking as the telltale signs of sexual satisfaction manifested on the detective's flushed face. Weiss hadn't caught Blake with her hands down her pants, though just barely. " _Aw_ , was our little ninja taking care of herself?"

"Er-" Now Blake stammered with atypical embarrassment. For all her deviance in the bedroom Blake was still shy about masturbating in front of them, one of those idiosyncrasies that lovers just accepted as a matter of course. Perhaps she just lacked Yang's shamelessness.

"Blake!" Yang shouted, fastening her pants. "You were supposed to be on lookout duty!"

"I can multitask," Blake mumbled, diverting her eyes.

"And what if someone had pulled over just now? And seen an officer of the law face-fucking a bajillionaire? Hell, even if they don't know who Weiss is you can bet there'll be an angry mob outside the precinct by sunrise!"

"They'd probably…. think we're shooting a porno?" Blake offered, not even convincing herself.

"That's my  _squad car_ back there, Blake! I can't exactly claim some other drop-dead gorgeous blonde policewoman was getting her pussy licked by the side of the road."

"I was wondering about that," mused Weiss, glancing at the monochrome-colored car, a door of which still hung open. "What happened to  _Bumblebee_ ?"

"Bike's been in the shop since Wednesday, Weiss, cam chain snapped," Yang answered, cooling down ever-so-slightly. "And Blake lent her ride to Mendoza for his cottage thing."

"So, what, the two of you decided to borrow a squad car for a weekend of personal use?"

"Ah-"

"Um-"

Panic was visible on Yang's face, grim resignation on Blake's. And a ghastly smile came over Weiss.

"I seem to recall there being something _very specific_ about when police officers were allowed to use Force vehicles."

"This has to be the quietest weekend of the year," Yang said, her voice almost a whimper.

"Plus we're both _technically_ on-call," offered Blake, "so given the circumstances-"

" _Officer's Handbook_ , Chapter 11, Section 14-5: FAQs." Weiss' memory wasn't quite eidetic, but when it came to remembering things that could make fine blackmail one day…. " _Q: My car broke down and it's a quiet weekend ahead. Since there won't be any shortage of vehicles for on-duty officers, there's no harm in borrowing one for personal use, right?_ "

"I told you not to leave that on the coffee table!" Blake hissed to her fellow officer, eliciting a scarlet blush from Yang. Weiss continued her merciless assault.

" _A: No. Regardless of how likely it is that any given piece of equipment will be needed, police equipment, including vehicles,_ should never be used for personal reasons _. Besides the risk of public property being damaged, stolen or lost, such behavior projects an unprofessional image of the force._ " A beat. "So, whose unblemished service record is getting a reprimand for personal use of police equipment?"

Like in those old Westerns before the gunslingers drew their revolvers, an eerie silence descended. Even the freeway's traffic seemed chilled by Weiss's frosty glare. Blake, the better of the two at navigating minefields, ventured first.

"Now, Weiss, I understand that there may be some hard feelings about Yang's 'unsafe driving' accusations."  _Yup, still a sore spot_ , Blake confirmed, as Weiss' expression managed to somehow get even colder. Like below Absolute Zero.

"I think we can all agree that I got _maybe_ a little too into character," Yang  preferred. Lilac eyes bounced around, like a drowning man trying to spot driftwood. "Man, what a wacky story this'll make one day!" The laugh that followed was painfully forced.

 "I am _starved_ ," said Blake, employing the _non sequitur_ that was the last hope of damned. "Whose up for Pyrrah's Greek? I'm buying."

 "Blake."

 "Yes, Weiss?" The Ice Queen's glare was as cold as her voice. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Drive us home. Yang, you're in the back with me. I've been wearing heels for about fourteen hours now and my feet are _killing_ me. I trust you won't mind starting my night with a massage?"

"No, ma'am," Yang whimpered, properly whipped.

They piled into the squad car, Weiss kicking off her heels and tugging off her pantyhose. She dialed Schnee Dust Company HQ, instructing a night-shift clerk to take a taxi and pick up her BMW they'd left by the side of the road, keys in the ignition. As Blake chauffeured them back to the penthouse condo they shared, Weiss paused momentarily to ponder if wealth had corrupted her. Then Yang began thumbing a particularly painful part of her foot, and Weiss shuddered in the masochistic pleasure of powerful massage.

 No, she could be evil quite devoid of any wealth. But her lovers were rogues and rapscallions of the highest order, so she was right where she belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> First RWBY fic. Out of the many beautiful names for RWBY pairings Bee's Schnees has to be my favorite. Not only is it (a) a pun on Weiss' surname and (b) a reference to the Bumblebee pairing, but also a shout out to an early line by Ruby Rose, who says, "I don't wanna be 'the bee's knees.'" Appropriately, she's the only member of RWBY who's NOT.
> 
> There's an oblique reference to my favorite RWBY fanfic of all time and a couple of Easter Eggs for people who like those.


End file.
